I thought I understood idleness. I imagined it as a gentle, comforting space—stretching out on a sofa, letting my thoughts drift like leaves on a pond, maybe sipping tea while the afternoon sunlight pooled lazily across the floor. I thought doing nothing was easy, maybe even indulgent. But last month,…

I’ve always had a peculiar relationship with the earth beneath my feet. As a child, I remember picking up stones during walks, marveling at the different textures, colors, and hidden patterns. Something about holding a piece of the world in my hand made it feel more intimate, like I was…

It’s funny how a small flame can shift everything. A few nights ago, I found myself wandering through my apartment, weary from the noise of the day, the kind of exhaustion that sinks into your chest and makes your bones feel heavy. The overhead lights felt sterile, too bright, too…

It began as a simple Sunday chore, the kind you tell yourself you’ll do in ten minutes and somehow end up spending an entire afternoon on. My closet had slowly transformed into a quiet archive of my past selves. Shirts I had bought impulsively during vacations, sweaters that smelled faintly…

It started as a lazy Sunday afternoon experiment. I was sitting on my couch, watching the light shift through the windowpanes and thinking, not for the first time, that my apartment had settled into a kind of invisible routine. Everything was in its usual place, every chair where I expected…